


Paternal Error (In Which Bucky Thinks the Kids are Alright)

by EVVS



Series: Paternal Error [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Clint Barton, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sniper Dads, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVVS/pseuds/EVVS
Summary: Four kids, a dog, and a wedding later, it's supposed to be easier, right?(It's not.)As his and Clint's flock grows up, Bucky's adjusting about as well as one would expect...





	1. Pietro

**Author's Note:**

> In which he learns to run on his own.

There’s giggling coming from the porch. It’s only one in the afternoon, so it’s not Clint, and there’s the sound of scrabbling claws at the door, so Lucky has something to say about the situation also. And, with a groan of exaggerated annoyance, Bucky gets up from the couch to get the door.

Someone knocks on the other side of the door about a second before he opens it, and when he does, Simone is standing on the other side of the door, her two sons there with her. To Bucky, they seem so old now even though the younger is almost the same age as Peter.

What’s more surprising in this picture is that Pietro is standing behind Simone.

Bucky opens his mouth, but no, that's not how this works because Simone gets to talk first: “I'm pretty sure I found one of yours. And not the usual suspects, either.”

Usually when one of the kids ends up at Simone’s, it’s Peter just because he likes hanging out with kids more towards his own age or Kate because she got into a fight with someone. (That girl could pick a fight with a rabid bear, honestly.) Wanda occasionally babysat for Simone, but Pietro was hardly ever over there.

Especially not on a school day. During school hours. When he most definitely has class.

“Goddammit, Pietro,” sighs Bucky, running a hand through his hair because this is the fifth time this month that this kid has skipped school and his attendance record is starting to look spottier than a Dalmatian.

“James!” scolds Simone immediately, clasping her hands over her younger son’s ears.

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Shit, sorry.”

“Language,” Pietro says with a devilish grin because now he’s picked up Clint’s fucking sarcasm and as if Bucky didn't have enough shit to worry about, suddenly this kid has more piss and vinegar than usual. And is skipping class. And getting into trouble.

In Bucky’s defense, he only started raising Pietro a little over a year ago. This isn't his fault. Damaged goods. (That’s probably not the right way to think about children…)

“I will make sure he washes his mouth with soap,” assures Pietro with a smile that would probably some day make a girl’s heart melt, but today, he’s using that smile to get Simone to get him off the hook with Bucky— a tactic that will almost assuredly work because, yep, there it is, Simone is smiling and sighing and Bucky has immediately lost all credibility here.

The kid has his charms if nothing else.

“You should be in class, Pietro. Set a better example for my boys, please.” And Simone departs from the porch with a half-wave as she wrangles her own two kids back into her van.

And here it comes: a lovely sheepish smile from Pietro. The kind that says “I'm sorry but also I'm not guilty so you can try to say something bad, but good luck with getting it to stick”. Because this kid is essentially a snake. Except with legs. He can talk his way out of anything with a little circumlocution and some well-placed loving comments. If he weren't so suave, he’d be screwed.

Lucky for Bucky, he doesn't appreciate suave as much as the next guy. He married Clint, after all, and that man is anything but smooth. He’s probably about as smooth as the gravel driveway that Simone’s van is trudging along right now.

Pietro, on the other hand (Is that even an appropriate phrase considering Bucky only has one hand? He files this thought away to ask Clint later.), is about as smooth as butter and is about to slip into the house until Bucky grabs ahold of him. “Oh no, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” Bucky hates being the bad cop. Especially the bad cop without his good cop.

“I was going to do homework,” lies Pietro flatly, plenty aware that Bucky won't take his shit. Not the way that everyone else usually does.

Bucky pauses because now isn't the time for this discussion. “Chores,” he says. “You’re home early, you get a head start on chores.” It’s a diversion for now, at least until he can figure out what’s up with this one.

Pietro’s mouth flatlines, his smile wiped away instantly.

“Don’t skip school.” Bucky’s words are maybe sharper than he means, but goddamn, he has to manage it all somehow.

—

The rules were laid out plain and simple:

Rule 1) Go to school.

Rule 2) Don't skip any classes.

Rule 3) Make the best attempt possible in all classes.

Rule 4) Don’t argue with teachers.

And it applies to all the kids. It's an easy enough system.

Kate breaks Rule 4 like it’s nobody's business, and Clint takes those calls usually because Kate seems to like him more no matter how much Bucky tries to get her in his corner of the ring.

For the twins and Peter, Bucky’s usually on call. Wanda: not a problem. A dream, really. Peter has had his fair share of arguments with teachers over specific facts and miscommunication of information. Never anything more than a warning and a signature from a parent required.

Meanwhile, Pietro has a whole permanent record full of tardy slips, an attendance record to match, and plenty of detentions on top of that.

At least no one is breaking Rule 3. The kids at least put effort into their work.

Still, this is the sixth detention Bucky has had to pick Pietro up from in the past month. One of which was a result of him getting into a spat with a teacher about Sokovian history. (Bucky didn't have to lecture him for that. The kid was already upset. Instead, he had a nice long chat with the teacher. No more problems would come up with that one.)

When Pietro slinks his way into the car with a guilty look on his face, Bucky waits until the door’s shut before he turns off the car engine. As predicted, that causes Pietro to look at Bucky with slight alarm. “What is wrong?” he asks with a raised brow even though Bucky’s about ninety percent sure that this kid knows exactly what’s going on right now. Really, he’s just lucky that Clint isn't around for this conversation.

“Alright, you’ve gotta talk with me about this ‘cause this is a lil’ excessive, Maximoff.”

Fear flashes across Pietro’s face; alright, maybe he doesn't know what’s going on. “What are you talking about?”

And now Bucky has to do that thing where he explains why he’s worried that this kid is on the wrong path and that he’s slipping and that he’s concerned it's a mental health thing or maybe he’s in the wrong environment or something else altogether or—

Internally, Bucky sighs because this is not a problem he ever foresaw himself having.

“Pietro, you’re skippin’ class, you don't seem to give a crap-“ (Wow, good job filtering that one.) “-and your grades are slipping. You’ve been here less than a year and you’re hittin’ a landslide suddenly.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it.”

Pietro shrugs. Slumps down in the passenger seat some more. Folds his arms across his chest. He’s practically emulating Kate in her pissy mood right now. But less pissy. More nervous. His furrowed brow says as much.

A silence lingers for a few moments, and that’s normal. Pietro is the twin who always has to pause to get his thoughts together, usually it's a translation thing though. He’s said things poorly in the past and has learned plenty from his mistakes. Finally, he begins, “I do not think school is for me.”

(Bucky literally feels like Atlas and that Hercules has just taken the weigh off his shoulders. Maybe one less kid to put through college. Maybe he could buy himself a new gun. And Clint could get some better hearing aids…) (All of that feels incredibly selfish though. They should really keep their eyes on the kids’ futures.) (But also: guns.)

“I enjoy classes, but they are tedious. And I do not understand how I am going to apply historical facts to my current life? What does George Washington have to do with the current state of affairs of the country?”

Bucky bites his tongue because the political party system isn't all that important to the current track of this conversation. (Okay, maybe they should've homeschooled this one.)

Pietro continues, a little more boldly, “I do not want to be educated on anything more important than what is necessary to do good for people.”

It takes a brief pause of processing time for that sentence to make sense, but Bucky’s finally got it when he asks, “You just wanna help people?”

White hair moving as he nods, Pietro looks small in the passenger seat. He shifts uncomfortably and sucks in a deep breath; then he says quietly, “I would like to do what you and Clint do.”

After a second, Bucky’s stomach starts to churn because he knows that this right here is one of Clint’s biggest fears. (This and Loki, but the second one makes more sense at least.) But the idea that they led these kids into a lifestyle where they could put themselves on the line without a full scope of what risks that life entails. It's not just being on the news and having a bunch of heroic stories to tell— it’s coming home broken and bruised, and not just physically. It’s the emotional toll of _not_ being able to save everyone. It’s the struggle of keeping yourself alive and knowing that might be at the cost of killing someone else.

“That…” He has to breathe for a second. He has to keep his mind from imagining this kid dead on the battlefield somewhere. (Bucky’s seen far too many dead bodies. It’s all too easy to imagine Pietro dead.)  “That doesn't explain why you don't wanna go to school.”

“It is not worth the time. I do not feel that the things I am learning are relevant. Not to me.” He shifts. He pauses like he has more to say, and Bucky leaves the air open for Pietro to speak, and eventually, he does: “I also understand that I do not have to attend school now that I am seventeen.”

Well, American history isn't all that relevant to a Sokovian orphan. But still. “You do realize that Clint won't be happy to hear that, right?”

“You also are not happy to hear it.”

Honestly? No, Bucky isn't happy to hear it. Back when he was a kid, school was one of his favorite things. He fucking loved school. He can only imagine how the education system today would’ve thrilled the shit outta his younger self. He wished he didn't _have_ to drop school back then.

Now, Pietro has his eyes on Bucky. Reading him like an open book. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s street smart where the books may fail.

“I just know that school was more of a privilege back when I was your age.” As soon as it's out of his mouth, Bucky is mentally kicking himself for being the kind of guy who fuckin’ tells his husband’s kids the stories that normally start out with some “back in my day” bullshit.

Of course, back in his day, it was literally the 20s and the Great Depression was a thing.

Bucky tries to keep his train of thought: “What I mean is… you shouldn't write off school like it’s no big deal. There’s a lot to benefit from. Social skills, exposure to American culture, probably girls.” He’s grasping at fucking straws here.

And Pietro sees right through that shit. His expression is enough to let Bucky know that he isn't buying any of Bucky’s shit.

“Alright, so…” Barnes takes a deep breath. “What if you just get a high school degree?”

Clearly confused, Pietro strives to clarify, “But that would require me to go to school?”

Again, Bucky runs a hand through his hair. He sucks in a deep breath. “No, no, not exactly. It’s… I’ll have Clint explain it to you.” He then reaches forward to turn the keys; the engine grumbles to life, and Bucky cannot shake the awkward soccer mom feeling he always gets because he drives a motherfucking minivan. “But don't worry. We’ll figure somethin’ out for you, Maximoff.”

\--

Clint Barton is smarter than he lets on.

Bucky is plenty aware of that. He knows now, after seven-ish years of dating and a few months of being married, that Clint is not the dumbass everyone thinks he is. He’s still a dumbass, but not in the same way.

Give him an equation that Tony Stark can solve in five minutes. Clint could solve it in a day.

Throw Natasha in a pit of mafia members and she’ll fight her way out. Clint will do the same thing, escape ten minutes later, and comment on how many good zingers he got in.

Let Steve read a book and comment on the literary style. Clint will read the same book and bitch about everything every character did wrong and poke holes in the writing until the book gets thrown across the room.

He’s a different kind of smart.

Bucky attributes half of that to Clint never finishing school. He never got the kind of formal education that society requires. Neither did Bucky ‘cause a fuckin’ war happened. But Clint watched and learned and took mental notes; he _absorbed_ information.

Doesn't mean he never wanted to have a traditional education. Bucky helped him study for his GED twice. He failed both times, not for a lack of trying, just for a lack of time. And that was almost five years ago, before Kate and Lucky and the twins, back when Bucky could keep an eye on Peter so Clint could study. Back when it was all easier.

Clint’s quit on that dream now, so his freak out to Pietro’s request to quit school is entirely reasonable.

“You _what_?”

Bucky winces alongside Pietro. Hey, at least he was expecting this.

“I do not want to go to school anymore.”

And Kate then pipes up with half a sandwich in her mouth, “I don’t wanna go to school either.”

With a glare, Bucky’s got that one quiet because she is not a priority right now. He has to keep Clint and Pietro in check and make sure that nothing goes wrong between these two. Kate leaves after Bucky’s glare; she can have her own moment another day.

And Clint settles down (in an unsettled sort of way) at the kitchen table, hands already twitching. And Bucky wants so badly to take Clint’s hand, but he knows he can’t right now. He has to support Pietro here. He can’t let the kid stand alone here.

Clint’s teeth are clenched, but he seems kind of collected as he begins. “Pietro, I get that you don’t understand how the American school system works, but school is kind of important here. Just a high school degree is really important for jobs and—”

“I told him about the option of gettin’ a GED, Clint.”

Now Bucky catches a glare and nearly flinches under it. _Nearly_. Still, he watches his husband coolly.

“Barnes—”

“I explained it to him. He knows it’s gonna be hard.” Bucky holds it together, knowing very well he’ll probably get a nice round of bitching from Clint later. “And I said that if he wants to quit school, we’re gonna make sure he at least gets his GED. That’s the bottom line.”

There’s a quiet pause as Clint sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and now his eyes are watching the table. “Technically, we can’t make him do that.”

Pietro shifts in his seat next to Bucky. “But I will do it if it will make you happy to see me have an education. I just do not wish to waste my time in school.” He shakes his head and leans forward. “They are too slow for me anyways.” And Pietro laughs. The good kind of laugh. Still nervous, but good.

Clint rubs the back of his neck and sighs. (Bucky knows Clint has no idea what that feels like. Clint’s smart but slow.) He stays quiet for a long moment. “So I can help you with the GED process, if you want.” He takes a deep breath. “I’d still rather see you go to school.”

“Same here, but…” Bucky shrugs. “He’s at the age where he can make that decision. Not our call.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Clint looks to Bucky tiredly and then to Pietro. And to Bucky, Clint looks so old right there in that moment. Tired of everything. “I’ll start looking at all the paperwork and crap tomorrow to get you started.”

“And I’ll call the school,” assures Bucky, knowing he’s gonna have to be a part of this. He’s gonna have to work with Clint to make sure Pietro’s taken care of. And now he can hold Clint’s hand, and Clint wordlessly weaves his fingers between Bucky’s. “We’ll get it done. No problem.”

“Thank you,” breathes Pietro like he’s relieved. “Thank you.”

Bucky squeezes Clint’s hand, but he watches Pietro. “No problem, Maximoff. We’ll take care of you.”

Clint laughs. And Bucky knows why. Taking care of these kids is why they took them all in. Why they adopted the ones they could. To make sure they could do whatever they wanted with their lives. To support them.

“Just don’t let the other kids know that you can drop school when you’re sixteen.” Again, Clint is laughing as he continues, “I don’t think Katie was kidding.”

\--

It’s past midnight, and there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit,” whispers Clint as he climbs off of Bucky and is quick to swing himself out of bed. (Honestly, Bucky’s just lucky that Clint keeps his hearing aids when they’re having sex. And the only reason he does is to make sure no one’s getting too loud with the kids in the house.)

Bucky pulls the blankets up over himself after pulling on his briefs again. (He’s also lucky that nothing kills an erection faster than the thought of a kid walking in on sex.)

The door cracks open and light spills in for a moment, which shines on the lube on the nightstand and Bucky shoves that shit in the drawer so damn fast—

“What’s up, Pete?” asks Clint, clearly trying to let Bucky know who’s on the other side of the door.

Apparently, Lucky was also sleeping outside the door and now takes this opportunity to sneak his way inside and sniff around the room.

“Pietro’s studying, and he’s got a light on, and it’s keeping me up.” Peter’s shadow moves and shifts the light that’s pouring into the room. Bucky can see from the kid’s silhouetted form that he’s rubbing his eyes; it’s childlike. It’s now strange to consider that the kid isn’t that seven-year-old that Bucky used to sit and watch while Clint was studying for his GEDs. He isn’t that little kid anymore. “Can I sleep in here?”

Bucky hears Clint softly chuckle. “Yeah, bud, sure, if you want to.”

The door opens slightly more, and Peter shuffles in with a blanket and pillow in hand. “He was twitching, and it was making the floor creak,” he mumbles while tossing his blanket onto the frumpy couch that sits under the windows in the bedroom. “I’ve been trying to sleep for like an hour.”

Still sitting up on his elbows, Bucky sighs. He lets his hand fall off the side of the bed so he can pet the top of Lucky’s snuffling head. “Yeah, he does that a lot.”

“Sorry for waking you guys up.” Peter plops his pillow on the couch and then crawls on top of the blankets. He wraps himself up like it’s a sleeping bag.

“No worries, Pete,” says Bucky, and Clint mumbles the same thing before crawling into the bed next to Bucky, who’s now laying on his side, facing Peter. Clint presses his front into Bucky’s back and wraps an arm around Bucky’s torso; it only takes a second for Bucky to relax into Clint and link their hands together.

“I’m glad he’s studying as hard as he is, but he should go to the kitchen to study,” exhales Clint, nuzzling his way into Bucky’s neck and pressing a brief kiss to Bucky’s exposed skin.

The couch creaks as Peter shifts to get comfortable. “This wouldn’t be a problem if we had our own rooms,” prompts Peter in a way that reminds Bucky that this kid is also a little shit just like all the others. (Okay, maybe all of them except Wanda; even Lucky is a little shit.)

Lucky hops up on the couch and curls up near Peter’s feet, causing it to creak more.

Clint sighs. “I’ll look into figuring out how to get you all your own rooms.” He hooks one leg over both of Bucky’s, trying to get as close to his husband as humanly possible. (Not that Bucky has any sort of problem with that whatsoever.) “But for now, get some sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

For a moment, Peter seems like he’s ready to say something more but instead, he just reaches down to scratch Lucky’s ear. Then he says, “Thanks, Dad.” Then he curls up in a ball again, almost mirroring the damn dog’s position. “Night, Dad, night, Bucky.”

“Night, Pete” and “G’night” echo back at him in the darkness.

There’s a quiet that hangs in the air then as the four bodies breath in sync.

Bucky squeezes Clint’s hand. He can’t help but think back to when this was a regular occurrence. Except Peter was younger and would crawl into their bed and snuggle between them. Back when Bucky was terrified of hurting Peter. Back when Bucky would immediately crawl out of bed as soon as Peter was asleep.

Now, he knows he’s okay for the night. Worst case scenario, Peter knows what to do. He can defend himself. And Clint’s there.

They’re safe.

Everyone’s safe.

\--

“So he wants to be an Avenger?” asks Steve, staring at Clint and Bucky like they’ve just turned into conjoined twins.

Clint’s basically pressed into Bucky as they wait for Natasha to tell them they’re in the dropzone for the target. “Yeah. As soon as he gets his GED, he wants to start working with you guys.”

“He’s been trainin’ with us and Katie and Pete for months. Or at least since he and Wanda moved in.” Bucky shrugs and watches the cockpit. “He’s good. Clever, too. The kind of shit you’d like, Stevie.”

“More or less annoying than Tony?”

Clint laughs. The good, hearty kind of laugh. The kind that Bucky doesn’t hear very often from his husband. And Clint eventually says, “Depends on the day and what’s going on.” And he’s still laughing.

Because it’s true.

Pietro is a little shit.

“He’d be a good asset, if nothin’ else,” says Bucky while rubbing circles into Clint’s back. “He’s a good kid. Dedicated to helpin’ people.” He watches Steve for a reaction. “All you’d have to do would be to teach him to take orders a lil’ better.”

Steve seems to contemplate it, but he’s also watching the cockpit for Natasha’s signal. “He’s still under eighteen though?”

“Yeah, yeah, so we wouldn’t want him in field combat quite yet.” Clint sounds like a protective parent again. The way he sounds when Peter wants to go to camp. The way he gets when Kate has to go to her dad’s for the holidays. Paternal.

“We’re thinkin’ it’d just be better to get him into higher level training, honestly. More than just a couples bows and arrows and a spider kid.” Bucky shrugs and runs his hand up Clint’s back and ruffles his husband’s hair, which makes Clint smile. His eyes focus back on Steve. “Just so he can be better prepared for when he _is_ old enough to go into the field.”

The coms crackle in their ears, and Clint’s the only one who doesn’t wince against the sound. Natasha’s voice comes through. “We’re over the dropzone in twenty seconds, boys. Don’t forget your chutes.” The com stops crackling for a second but comes back to life a moment later just so Natasha can say, “Yes, Steve, that means you.”

Bucky laughs too hard at that.

“Shut up, Buck.” And then Steve jumps out of the plane.

\--

The car isn't tense, it's just... quiet. And tense. Yeah, okay, so the car is tense.

Kate is twitching in the backseat, her fingers tapping away on her phone like she's writing out a goddamn novel. Her perfectly painted nails click against the screen. Really, she’s the only one making any noise in the car.

Other than her, Peter’s tried to strike up conversation twice but that wasn't about to go anywhere, not with the stress levels here, no way.

Bucky’s doing everything he can to keep from twitching. Meanwhile, next to him, Clint is wringing his hands like a housewife worried about her husband’s return from the war. (Bucky would know.) (And not just because he’s done that about Clint.) (Yes, it's because he was a kid in the thirties. He doesn't actually wring his hands over Clint. He cries. Like a man.)

Wanda is seemingly calm though. The eye of the storm, probably, perched in the backseat with her eyes on the doors to the building, waiting for her brother.

It’s a goddamn family event.

Might as well be, after watching the kid study for a month and a half straight. Aside from studying, the maniac only ate, slept, and trained. And they’d all helped about as much as they could: kept him fed and reminded him to rest.

His goal had remained the same: pass the damn test and then start the real training.

Staring at the parking lot, Bucky notices how the cars are all parked a spot or two away from each other, no two cars too near. Like the way that people sit in movie theaters and classrooms. He sucks in a deep breath and wonders how the fuck Pietro is holding up in there when no one is even holding up well in the car parked outside the building.

Again, Peter makes an attempt: “We could turn on the radio? Or, actually, I put a CD in the car a few days ago, the one I made for the wedding, if you’d rather listen to that.”

Neither Clint nor Bucky move to turn on the radio. Bucky at least glances at it, but instead of reaching for the dial, he reaches for Clint’s hand.

His husband looks tired. Worried. Almost afraid. And now more than ever does Bucky wish he could read Clint’s mind.

“You know he’ll be okay, right?” asks Bucky, scanning Clint’s face, watching Clint’s eyes, trying to figure out the best way to settle him. He just holds Clint’s hand gently, knowing they’ll probably have to talk later; too many kids in one van, not to mention the kind of tension that Bucky could literally cut through with the knife in his boot right now.

“He has finished,” says Wanda, tapping on the window.

Sure enough, there’s their boy, hopping down the stairs too fast but also too slow. He’s grinning, but that’s not unusual, nor is it exactly a good sign. That kid could find a reason to smile even in a nuclear fallout.

Kate pulls the door open for Pietro, and he hops into the van much like a dog that’s overly eager to go to the vet. Or maybe doesn’t realize it’s going to the vet. “Ice cream now, yes?” he asks, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like he hasn't been in a goddamn exam hellscape for the past eight hours.

(Because God knows that when Clint came out of that exam, he looked like he’d just seen World War II.)

Bucky starts the van and stammers out, “Yeah, yeah.”

And it’s Clint who asks first (of course it's fuckin’ Clint), “How did it go?”

And Pietro, that motherfucker, _shrugs_.

Bucky cannot drive and manage Clint and Pietro simultaneously. Murder five people at once? Sure. Micromanage the family affairs of five people? Fuck no. “Peter, what flavor’s your favorite again?” Bucky asks a little too loudly, hoping it’ll keep Clint at bay.

And that sweet little saint of a spider-child answers, “The best flavor is the fudge flavor, but if you get the peanut butter chips, it's even better.” What a goddamn champ, that one. Bucky’s gonna give him extra fuckin’ peanut butter chips on his goddamn ice cream.

And that dissolves that problem in no time ‘cause Peter’s rambling in the backseat and Bucky’s got the radio on real low now and the van’s engine rumbles softly. And Bucky has Clint’s hand.

And Bucky’ll manage it all when he gets home and doesn't have to drive the fuckin’ soccer mom van.

Three hours and four quarts of ice cream later, Pietro’s results are in.

He’s grinning ear to ear.

“How soon did Captain Rogers say I could start training?”

\--

It’s weird to think that he’s only been with them for a year and some and is already leaving. Of course, Bucky kind of knew that when Clint adopted the twins. And when he married Clint and also sort of adopted them in a roundabout way. He knew Pietro and Wanda wouldn't be around long.

But hell, he thought they’d be here longer than this.

Pietro’s barely got a duffel bag full of his shit. Honestly, its contents are probably the same three shirts, two pairs of shorts, and three pairs of sweatpants that Bucky always washes for him every week. (Bucky’s so worried Pietro will forget to do his laundry.) And maybe he has a couple pairs of shoes packed in there. And the photo album that Clint gave him last night; it’s mostly full of pictures from the wedding and candid shots that Kate’s taken on her phone over the past months. A bunch of good pictures, really. Almost all of them with good memories attached.

“Tony says he’ll set you up with a room,” reminds Clint, sounding like the parent that’s about to send their kid to summer camp for the first time. Except he’s a parent sending his first kid off to live the rest of his life. (Essentially living with people who could be considered family but not quite because the first incident with Tony and Steve and the others was, oh, that’s right, a brainwashing incident that also almost annihilated the human race, but that’s no big deal.) “And you can come back whenever you want.”

“Yeah, punk,” says Kate from the couch as she flips through channels idly on the tv. “Door’s open for you to waltz back in here after the actual Avengers kick your sorry butt.”

It’s clearly not taken as seriously as it could be ‘cause Pietro just grins. “I will come home often. Probably more than you would like.”

“One less person to fight over the remote with,” sighs Kate in pseudo-content.

The door is open because Tony’s got the jet parked (or about as parked as a jet can be) a couple miles out (which is like nothing for the kid with speedy feet) and needs to get back to the tower for some meeting or other with Pepper that he probably won't even pay attention to—

But that’s not important because Bucky’s watching Wanda and Pietro embrace in the way that reminds him that, yeah, they’re very much their own goddamn people, but they’re still twins. Twins who walked through Hell and came out on the other side intact and together and stronger than ever.

It’s weird seeing them separate from the hug and to see them less worried than anyone else in the house despite the fact that they’re the two who have never been apart like this before.

Meanwhile, Clint and Peter have been separated for weeks before without any problems. Bucky has even been away from Clint for weeks. Katie goes home (against her will and everyone’s better judgment) for long stretches to visit her now estranged father. Pietro and Wanda are the only two without any serious separation from anyone, but also with the least amount of attachment, and Bucky can’t wrap his head around it because these two are already part of the family and watching Pietro resituate the bag on his shoulder somehow feels like leaving Steve behind all those years ago again…

Clint somehow is keeping his cool though and is going through some kind of mantra that sounds rehearsed. “You’ll get into training pretty much right away, still won’t be able to go in the field, but that’s to avoid red tape and other sh-stuff. Stark’ll get you set up with a room and anything else you need for basic living, and I swear he’s not usually as evil as the Ultron thing.”

Bucky scoffs at that. (Of all the gorgeous men in the modern day and age, Steve had to pick _that one_ to date?)

Apparently, Clint ignores him because Clint is a good man who speaks nicely about Tony Stark because he’s the guy who helps Clint check the designs for new arrows.

“He will manage,” says Wanda at the same time that Pietro says, “I will manage.”

Bucky knows Pietro will be just fine.

And Peter’s still in school so he can’t be there to say goodbye, but those two said their goodbyes this morning when Pietro got Peter ready for school so that Bucky and Clint could get some extra shuteye.

“Then get going. Tony’s out where we usually land the jet.” Clint pulls out his phone. “Yeah, I have fifty texts from him. He’s just about as impatient as you, kid.”

“I will call when I am in the tower and safe,” Pietro assures, and no one doubts him for a second. “And I will visit when I have time. They cannot keep me busy all of the time.” He’s almost laughing by the end. (Bucky wonders if this is hurting him just as much as it’s hurting everyone else.)

“You’d better,” says Kate from the couch.

One last round of goodbyes and then Pietro’s out the door with a running start. As if anyone expected anything less.

\--

Clint has his face pressed into Bucky’s collarbone, he’s got his arms around Bucky’s torso, and he has his legs entangled with Bucky’s. They’re curled into each other and wrapped up in the blankets. Bucky kisses Clint’s hair every few minutes to reassure him that he’s not going anywhere. But maybe he’s just doing it to reassure himself that Clint isn’t going anywhere.

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky’s the first to mumble, “I’ll get it,” before he climbs out of bed and shivering at the immediate chill he faces without the blankets to shield him. He almost wishes he had shoved Clint out of bed. (But he can’t do that, Clint’s fragile right now, Clint needs to stay in bed, Clint needs to rest.)

He opens the door and blinks at the bright light outside. He’s almost surprised to find Peter standing there, but at the same time, he doubted it would’ve been either of the girls. And it’s not like Lucky can knock.

“Can I sleep in here?” asks Peter, clutching his blanket again. He looks like he’s seven and has just had a nightmare. But he’s not. He’s almost twelve and won’t crawl into their bed anymore but he’ll always take advantage of their open couch.

“Yeah, yeah, bud, c’mon in.” And Bucky opens the door a little more, still careful not to let the light hit Clint too much.

Peter edges his way in and moves to the couch to set up his burrito-style bed.

“You good, Pete?” asks Clint, his voice so tired that it covers up the sound of it cracking.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.” He pauses. “It’s just really quiet in there. And Lucky’s with Kate and Wanda tonight. So.” He readjusts his blanket and then says, “I miss him.”

Bucky wraps himself around Clint again, holding his husband close. He bites back from saying, “Me too.” Because he shouldn’t miss Pietro. The house was quiet all day. There was no one to help with dishes. There wasn’t the constant chatter in Sokovian between the twins or even just when Pietro would talk to himself.

Everything was just… off.

“Me too, kid” says Clint. He sounds brave right now. (Bucky knows Clint’s just pretending like this isn’t part of his laundry list of abandonment issues, but it is, and Clint is clearly not coping well.) “Me too.”

And then everything is quiet.

But none of them sleep.

\--

Kate’s phone rings. It’s always ringing. Literally, if Bucky hears that snake song one more time, he’s going to crush that phone with his goddamn metal hand—

“Hey, bro,” says the teenager nonchalantly just as she licks cinnamon roll frosting from her fingers. She pauses licking her fingers for a moment and, after a few seconds, says, “Y’know, that sounds like a personal problem.”

She says that every fuckin’ time she doesn’t wanna deal with something. Bucky swears to God, he does not have enough coffee in him to be dealing with Kate right now. He has barely even been awake a half hour and Wanda is still upstairs getting ready for school and the only reason Kate’s down here is because the bathroom is _occupado_ courtesy of Peter.

Plus, she and Bucky like to have their morning coffee together.

Then. Oh, and _then_ …

“WANDA!” hollers Kate as loudly as she can, and dear _God_ are they lucky that Clint is deaf because he would’ve woken up bitching and moaning the whole way down the stairs and then drank the last of their fresh pot of coffee and—

Bucky has never seen a girl get down the stairs that fast in heels. Eyes wide, he watches as Wanda holds her hand out for the phone. (This is despite the fact that she has her own goddamn phone around here somewhere, but it’s like one girl is attached to her phone and the other is constantly losing it in a black hole that apparently exists in the house.) She immediately takes the phone and starts murmuring in Sokovian.

“He tried calling her twice,” Kate says as she watches Wanda walk off with her phone. Then she goes back to picking at her second cinnamon roll. “Knew I’d pick up.”

“How long has her phone been missing?” asks Bucky, wondering where his own phone is so maybe he can try to ping her phone with that Find My Phone app that they got for the sole purpose of finding Wanda phone. (And Bucky’s phone, but he won’t admit to that and no one’s about to call him out for it.)

“For two days now,” says Kate with a shrug. She shoves a torn piece of food into her mouth. “Pietro called last night, too.”

Bucky stares into the living room, watching Wanda talk to her brother. He sees Peter at the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s tragic, isn’t it?” comments Peter like he’s frozen in time somehow. And then he’s moving mechanically, going to sit at the kitchen table, grabbing a plate, plopping a cinnamon roll on that plate. Then he says softly, “And it’s only gonna get worse.”

And then he starts to eat.


	2. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which she can learn to lead.

Clint is fidgeting in the passenger seat. He hates long car rides. Loathes them. Would rather be in the middle of battlefield crossfire, probably.

Bucky doesn't mind. Better than planes, at least.

"Thank you for driving me," Wanda says quietly from the backseat as she also twitches, but for entirely separate reasons. "I appreciate you coming with me on the visit."

"No problem, kid," says Bucky. He forgets that he basically calls all the kids "kid" until he says it to Wanda. It feels weird when it's her. She's not a kid anymore. She's gonna graduate high school in a little under a year. She... She was never even a kid when he knew her. Pietro had-- has-- the personality to justify calling him "kid". Kate and Peter are still kids. Sort of. And besides, he's always called them that.

But it feels weird with Wanda. Maybe it's because he's sees too much of himself in her. Maybe it's because he can't get his head around the fact that she's technically his daughter by marriage.

Hell, he has goddamn three kids by marriage, now. And Kate. And a dog.

All in all, it's fucking terrifying.

What's almost more terrifying is that Wanda's getting ready to go to college.

Five days on the road has finally gotten them home from Stanford. They took the jet on the way there, but Bucky didn't want to get back into that after a little too much turbulence. Sure, he's got the endurance of... well, Steve, but he can't exactly survive a plane crash and neither can Clint, and Wanda might be able to with a little magic, but he doesn't wanna push his luck with that one. And Clint could manage in a car in spurts of a few hours at a time. And if he slept, he was fine, so it wasn't uncommon for him to toss back some sleeping pills and crash in the backseat of the rental van.

Overall, it hasn't been a fun road trip, but it hasn't been the worst road trip. (The worst road trip was that one time when Pete was young, and they took him to Disney World and then discovered that Peter gets carsick pretty easily. But no one can cancel a trip to Disney World once it's promised.)

As soon as they're home, Clint's out of the car before Bucky can even turn off the engine. He even stumbles on the gravel. And then over the dog because Lucky's enjoying his freedom to roam about the yard. And then Clint moves over to lay in the grass, which is closely followed by Lucky laying on him because obviously grass is for chumps.

"Can you get your stuff unloaded okay?" Bucky asks as Wanda slips out of the van's back door.

She smooths out her dress for a second before saying, "Yes, of course." The young woman's shoes scrape against the gravel as she moves to the back of the van, throws open the trunk, and starts to shoulder her bags.

If she were using her powers, Bucky wouldn't have even had to ask.

Still, he has other priorities. He moves to the grass and lies down beside Clint. "Hi."

"Hi." But Clint's response sounds more like an exhausted groan.

Bucky reaches over and swats Lucky's rump, which is enough to get him to scramble off Clint and decide to follow Wanda inside, wagging his tail and sniffing the girl's bags the whole way. Lucky probably hopes there's a snack in there for him, but the joke's on him: it's just dirty laundry.

"You okay?" asks Bucky as he puts the back of his hand on Clint's forehead, which is no warmer than usual.

"Headache" is the soft response Bucky receives.

"Stress?"

There's a pause. "Maybe. Mostly the car."

Bucky shimmies closer to Clint, probably getting grass stains on his shirt, but not like it matters, it's dirty anyways. He bought it two days ago at a rest stop because he'd run out of clean clothes. It's an ugly ass green shirt with some trees and the logo for some park on it that Bucky's never been to.

“Are you gonna go all therapist on me?"

Bucky laughs. Because sometimes it does feel like that, when he's trying to keep an eye on Clint. Making sure he takes his meds, making sure he's eating fine. It's the little things. "No," he says, after he shifts so that he's on his side, head propped up by his hand. "I was gonna say we could totally make out like a coupla school boys right now." He smirks at Clint. "Sun's out, kids're inside, dog isn't on top of you. And s’not like we have any neighbors to give a damn about."

In no time, Clint is smirking back at him. "I love you," he says softly before moving so he can meet Bucky's lips.

The sun is hot, but Clint's hotter as he moves to lay on top of Bucky, running his fingers through Bucky's messy hair, pecking his dry lips with sweet little kisses, making sure a little tongue gets in there every now and then. Some kisses even end up on Bucky's neck, some at the base of his throat; some even have a little teeth involved.

It's not exactly sexy, it's not even necessarily arousing. But it's good. And it's enough.

It only lasts a few minutes before the damn dog shows up again, barreling into Clint and deciding that he wants to also give kisses. (Fucking dog.) And the dog is followed by Peter, apparently, who only gets to the door before groaning loudly, "Dad, Bucky, you have a room for that!"

While also trying to shove Lucky away, Bucky manages to get out a general "Shaddup" in Pete's direction. And he eventually has to untangle himself from Clint and wrangle the dog to hopefully get him inside.

Clint stays in the grass for a little while even after Bucky gets the mutt inside. And he's still there when Bucky grabs their bags from the trunk. But on his way back to the door, he offers a hand down to his husband. "C'mon, we got shit to do."

With a sigh, Clint takes Bucky's hand and allows himself to be hauled up off his sorry ass. "I know, I know," he breathes. Then he takes one of the bags from Bucky, and they head inside just as the sun starts to hit the top of the trees that guard their little farmhouse.

\--

"Do we even get regular mail anymore?" asks Kate in sort of an annoyed yell as she throws the contents of the mailbox on the kitchen table; the envelopes scatter, and a heavier one even dares to almost knock over Bucky's mug of tea.

"Yes." Bucky moves his tea away from the offending letter. "They're called bills. Y'kno, those things you don't have to pay?"

She sticks her tongue out at him.

"It's mostly college mail," says Peter, apparently carrying more. His face is twisted up in something resembling disappointment. "I was hoping my drone would come in today."

Bucky raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but it's Clint, who's standing by the backdoor, who beats him to the question that's probably on everyone's minds: "Peter, what do you need a drone for?"

"There probably wasn't enough room in the mailbox for it because of WANDA!" hollers Kate as she picks through the mail and sorts it according to what Bucky and Clint get versus what Wanda gets. (Much to Bucky's dismay, their own pile is damn near as big as Wanda's. Fuck bills.)

Footsteps on the stairs cause a thunderous sound which is only topped by the subsequent scrabbling of claws on those same stairs. "You called?" asks Wanda, looking like she just got in trouble with one of those old-timey school teachers who's about to take a ruler to her knuckles. (Bucky is very familiar with those kinds of teachers; the one set of knuckles he’s got left will never forget.)

Lucky dashes on past her to start sniffing around the kitchen for scraps.

"It was just Kate givin' you a hard time 'bout the mail." Bucky pushes the still-growing pile towards her. "You're popular, Maximoff," he adds with an encouraging smile.

There's some sort of hesitation in Wanda as she pulls her hair up into a bun with a hair tie that was around her wrist only a second ago. "I believe some of them might be the letters of acceptance. Or... unacceptance?"

"Rejection," clarifies Peter as he hands over a few more envelopes from his stack. He might be the one who is most patient about the language barrier. They all try, but Peter never gets frustrated about it. What a good kid. "But I'm sure you got into most of them. You're smart. And your essay was good."

"You read her essay?" asks Kate; her face makes it seem like she just got fucking stabbed.

"I did too," says Bucky as he moves his chair so that Clint can pull his closer now that he's done picking up dog shit in the yard. (Good thing he doesn't smell like dog shit right now.) "It was a good essay."

Honestly, her essay had been one of the corny and stereotypical variety, but it couldn't be helped. It's hard to write around having incredibly dead parents, HYDRA torture, and superpowers in a thousand word or less essay. Especially when she was trying to come across as a "normal" girl.

What's the next best thing?

Family values. Works like a charm.

But now Wanda looks nervous as hell because it must be like a teenager's version of Judgment Day. (Not like Bucky knows, but he can guess.) She picks up her pile. Some of them still look like the desperate letter to get a last minute application in, but some of them are full-fledged Manila envelopes. Bucky suspects those are good news. Hopefully.

But shit, Wanda seems to not even want to touch some of them. She starts to delegate her own piles, which causes Bucky to grab the pile of bills in hopes of not losing those and forgetting to pay them because that's happened before. Too many times. Late fees are a bitch.

The two piles Wanda's making are apparently by sender because some are small, and Bucky doesn't recognize the logos on those envelopes. The other pile are the big names that she applied to: Yale, Stanford, Purdue. Even University of Oxford. Just for shits and giggles.

He's almost surprised by how much of it came on the same day. And then something dawns on him: this is probably the mail for the past two weeks.

Everyone in the house is notoriously bad at remembering that the mailbox exists unless they've ordered something from Amazon. So the drone must've prompted this mail dump. Fuck. Now Bucky gets to pick through the bills and see which ones are more time sensitive at this point so the power doesn't go out or they don't lose water.

Across the table, Wanda is picking at the "important" stack of mail. (Of course, she doesn't have to worry about goddamn bills.)

"C'mon, open one," encourages Kate, now pulling up a chair on the other side of Bucky. Suddenly this was becoming a full-on family affair. "Anyone would be stupid to reject you. I'm sure you got into all of them."

She slides her finger under the flap of the first one, and the sound of ripping paper is suddenly the loudest damn thing in the room.

This is... a totally foreign concept to Bucky. He never saw college in his future, not since, well, "waking up", and definitely not _before_ when he didn't have the money, let alone an excuse to escape the draft. College has always been elusive to him.

"I got into Stanford," Wanda says almost breathlessly. Her brown eyes are big and wide. The only school that mattered to that girl was Stanford.

Bucky isn't sure he could be any more proud.

\--

The crowd cheers as yet another kid circles the bases. It's only recreational but yet half the parents are acting as if this is Major League Baseball, which is stupid, in Bucky's opinion.

But he can't judge too harshly because Clint got thrown out of the game about a half hour ago for getting into an argument with the umpire. Bucky's the black sheep in the crowd right now, and not just because his husband was just told to get the fuck out of here.  It's very clear that Bucky's the passive parent who claps and encourages only when his kid is up to bat.  Besides,  he hates half the other parents here because the dads are douchebags and the moms are gossips.

"Did I miss anything?" asks a familiar voice on Bucky's left, which causes him to just about smack the shit out of Pietro because that's one of like ten things these kids are _not_ supposed to do, goddammit.

Bucky manages to lower his hackles and brush his hair out of his face. "Frickin' silent ninja kid," hisses Bucky as he watches the next kid go up to bad. His eyes slide over to his eldest son ( _technically_ his son) before he asks, "Which one of those punks at the tower taught you that one?"

"Your friend Natasha. Or, I guess, Aunt Natasha." Pietro shrugs before grinning even wider; his eyes are scanning the field for Peter as he adds, "She said I should use it on Clint."

"Except he's deaf, Maximoff. Not exactly the same concept."

"I know, and that is why I decided to try to sneak up on you instead."

This fucking kid.

Bucky points to Peter in center field, kicking at the dirt while the last batter walks his sorry ass to first. Fuck this other team, getting Clint thrown out of the game, being all good and shit; it's fucking recreational baseball. Peter only goes to get out of the house like twice a week. (Clint tried to be the assistant coach at the beginning of this season except he yelled "fuck" once too loudly during a game and was dismissed very quickly. Bucky was not surprised at all by this.)

"Are we winning?" asks Pietro as he waves to Peter, who probably doesn't see him at all.

"Not sure. I missed some plays 'cause I had to take Clint home."

Pietro pauses. "Again?"

Bucky can only shrug and shake his head. He squints against the sun before pulling his hair up into a bun to get it off his sweaty neck. "He figured he could help Wanda put together her list for school. Kate's already helpin', but y'kno, more heads and all. She’s all stressed ‘bout it."

"As long as she is happy." Pietro tries again to wave at Peter as his team, the Falcons (which Bucky constantly cringes at because fuck Sam), goes up to bat again.

"You gonna be okay with her all the way 'cross the country?" asks Bucky with a raised brow. He’s not watching the field anymore.

Pietro's face shifts slightly to something like uncertainty. "It will be strange to visit home and not see her. But I know I will be able to call her often." He cracks his signature smile. "As long as she does not lose her phone."

Bucky's about to smile back except the sound of a bat smacking the hell out of a ball brings the game back into focus. He's just lucky it's not softball; the sound of the metal bat would've rattled around in his head for hours after these games.

"Are you alright?" asks Pietro with a hand on Bucky's shoulder as the rest of the crowd is in chaos over this moderately good hit, which doesn't make any sense at all because it's just recreational baseball.

"Fine," Bucky lies, still on high alert. He's here to support Peter. He's here to watch baseball, like he did eighty years ago with Steve. He's not fine, but he's been plenty worse before.

\--

Clint is loud as fuck as he argues the logistics of stealing the Declaration of Independence with Peter and Kate, which is just enough for Bucky to slip away as they hit a crescendo of something about extra lasers.

He goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer, his second and last for the night, so he has to drink it slow, otherwise he'll be desperate for a third.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah," (he runs a roster in his head of who's where in the house and comes up with Wanda's voice for the association), "Wanda, what's up?" His voice sounds distant somehow as he shuts the fridge and turns his attention to her.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"I mean, I'm not missin' much aside from how many ways someone could steal important government documents, which is somethin' I've done a coupl'a times, so." He nods for her to go on as he cracks open his beer.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on changing my field of study," she says softly in her naturally nervous sort of way.

Literally, the wrong person to ask. Bucky is probably the least educated (half) human in this entire house. He went to school, sure, but he barely passed any classes. "Shoot," he says with a sigh.

"I know I am interested in psychology, but I was considering taking a few introductory classes to international relations and policies." Her brow furrows. "I feel like I can do more to change the world if I can reach out and facilitate peaceful conversations. I know these class paths are not exactly, uh, what's the word?"

"Intersecting?" Bucky offers. "Overlapping?"

Wanda nods and continues without a hitch. "I was thinking that I could take some classes in each field and see what is the most appealing."

Bucky takes a sip of his beer and has to take a second. Because back when she moved in, she would've needed Pietro at her side before making any important decisions. For the first months of being here, she was basically letting Kate dress her like a Barbie doll. And Peter could dare her to do just about anything: Bucky walked in on him trying to convince her to chug a gallon of milk once. (It was promptly shut down until Pietro tried it five minutes later and just about puked.)

But now.

She's very free-thinking, and it's even better to see that she's holding her own without Pietro. She doesn't need a reassuring look from him to be sure of herself.

Wanda's only coming to Bucky for his thoughts, probably so that he can offer suggestions. She seems pretty set on this. Bucky's only here to offer another opinion on the matter.

"Sounds good. Just make sure you get signed up soon." He wants her to get the best education possible. That's all that matters. And that she feels fulfilled and happy with whatever she wants to pursue. "And don't stress yourself out too much with school and shit. Not too many classes, kid, seriously."

She laughs. Shakes her head. "I will make sure I have time for fun, Bucky, I promise."

And that's when a very loud shout of "How dare you use Nicholas Cage's name in vain?!" rings out from the other room. Of course, it's Clint. Probably directed at Katie, although Bucky’s got no idea why.

"Thank you," says Wanda and it brings Bucky back. Back from where? He's not quite sure. But he watches her walk into the other room with renewed confidence, like a flower that keeps growing more and more each day.

And then he remembers: finding autonomy can do that to a person.

\--

"Clint."

Clint doesn't move. Because he's fucking deaf.

Bucky reaches over and taps him slightly, which startles him awake. "Barton," he says again, more for himself now.

Clint rolls over and his half-open blue eyes watch Bucky. Even mostly asleep, he's still very analytical in a way. "What's up?" he asks, voice all groggy. He tangles their legs together as he breathes softly. "Nightmare?"

When Bucky taps his own ear, Clint groans and twists and stretches with that flexibility that Bucky loves so much, and this would all probably be incredibly erotic if it weren't four in the morning and a mild mid-life crisis wasn't in progress.

After slipping one aid in, Clint refocuses on Bucky, clearly awake now. "You okay?" he asks. And he's gentle, so damn gentle.

"Am I autonomous?"

There's a pause. And some blinking. Tired blinking but also confused thinking blinking. Then Clint brings one hand up to cradle the side of Bucky's face and leans their foreheads together. "You've been making your own decisions since the day I met you, James."

He grits his teeth because that's a dirty damn lie. "Have I?" he asks, and maybe it sounds desperate. "Clint, I didn't... I think you're the only decision I ever made for myself. I didn't ask SHIELD for a job. Steve got it for me. Assumed I'd wanna be doin' somethin' since I've got the metal arm and all."

Again, Clint is silent. Mulling it over.

"I can't think of a single damn thing I've done for myself."

"Got married," reminds Clint, kissing Bucky's nose, trying to be reassuring.

But it sounds patronizing as soon as Bucky responds, "The kids started it." He's got a desperate hand on Clint's hip, holding onto him like his life depends on it. "And we had that same damn conversation a dozen times, and it never seemed in the picture for us. But the kids mentioned it and we caved. Like--"

"Don't fucking say it, Barnes."

Bucky goes silent. Because he knows where Clint's head is. It's exactly where his is. And Bucky wants to say the worst part of it, but he can't. He can't bring it up. It would kill Clint.

(That they never had choices. That they did what they had to do.)

(Like how Clint had to take in Peter.)

(Like he had to take in Kate.)

(Bucky starts to shiver as he starts to realize that maybe taking the twins in wasn't even his choice. That Tony started to say shit about taking them to egg Bucky on. That Tony knew all along about the farm and--)

"Stop," says Clint as he hangs onto Bucky tighter. "Stop it, Barnes." He presses himself against Bucky so that they're chest to chest, their bodies so close together that Bucky can feel Clint shivering now. "We can't go back to this paranoia shit."

"I know." His voice quivers.

“This has been our choice all along. All of it. Everything." Clint's voice sounds stronger than it has in a long time. (But he's still shaking.) "You chose me and I chose you. And you chose to move in with me. You wanted to get married. And I wanted to marry you the whole time, you piece of shit. The timing was just never right." He presses a kiss to Bucky's lips that barely lasts a heartbeat. "And now we're choosing to be together, just like we always have since that time in the closet." He smiles, but it's forced. "We've been our own people for a long time now. And I've chosen to love you time and time again."

Bucky swallows hard before he kisses Clint. Just a little kiss. Short. Sweet. "And I chose to love you since that time I punched you."

"Well I tried to kiss you first, so-"

But Clint's cut off by a kiss, tired and happy. Stressed, but better than he was about ten minutes ago. Much better than their first kiss. Nowhere near their last.

And Bucky chose this man. This beautiful, broken, loving man.

\--

"Not there," instructs Wanda sharply, which means Bucky has to freeze where he's about to put one of her boxes down. "Can you put it on the desk for now?"

He does as she says while hiding his smile. Yeah, she'll be fine in school.

"Do you just wanna do this yourself or what, kid?" he asks as he sits on her desk. "I can keep bringin' your things up if you just wanna focus on unpackin' it all."

"That would be helpful," Wanda agrees as she continues to go about her business.

Bucky looks around the tiny room and can't help but think that it looks a little like Kate and Wanda's room back at home before Wanda's half got packed up. It's gonna be weird to see Wanda's half here and Kate's half at home. Like the room got split in two and then one half was spirited away perfectly to the other side of the country.

It's weird to think that Kate's gonna be all alone in that room again.

Kate's not here because her finals didn't wrap up until late yesterday and the drive here took a little over three days. Clint debated bringing Kate and Peter over in the jet but decided better of it; too many people in a small room was recipe for disaster. Especially since Wanda was trying to keep a low profile and if one of the kids didn't slip something, surely someone would recognize Clint.

Meanwhile, Bucky has his heavy jacket on to hide the arm and his hair is tucked away into his hat. (Absently, he remembers he needs a haircut. Maybe he'll get one on the drive home and surprise Clint.) No one should recognize him. It's been a few years since he's been in the public eye, and it's not like he looks as young as he used to. Still, Clint tells him he wears thirty-six beautifully.

When Bucky refocuses his attention on Wanda, she seems to be thinking a little too hard. "Could I use my powers to unpack?"

Bucky stares at the cracked door. Then he quietly kicks it closed with the toe of his boot. "Go for it."

The whole room is glowing red as things move and float to what must be their rightful places because Bucky doesn't understand it except for the fact that his head is in the way at one point because he has to start ducking under shit. But it's faster than it would normally be. Shirts are automatically going on hangers and pants are folded into drawers effortlessly. Bucky's pretty sure she's even managing to color-coordinate the closet at the same time. It's impressive as all hell.

And a year or so ago, she would've been terrified to do anything on this scale. And the whole thing goes great right up until the door opens.

"Shit," Bucky mutters because Wanda didn't hear it, and--

"Oh, well this is a new one," says the girl in the doorway. Of course, fucking of course.

Startled, Wanda almost drops everything. "This is... not what it looks like," says the girl as her fucking eyes are glowing red and her hands are also glowing red and everything in the room is glowing red. Like no human being on this planet can figure out exactly what is going on in here despite saying "this isn't what it looks like" because it's exactly what it fucking looks like.

"Oh, don't worry, a lot of my friends are mutants," says the small blonde girl as she sets down a purse large enough to fit a kitchen sink in it.

And then, of course, of fucking course, Scott fucking Lang walks in.

Bucky's about to fucking scream.

And Wanda's startled. Overwhelmed, maybe even. Because she doesn't know these people. But Bucky does. And now he feels like he has to diffuse shit--

Everything in the air settles to the floor. Nothing is glowing anymore. "My name is Wanda," she introduces herself calmly to the girl who must be her roommate and apparently Scott's goddamn daughter. "Wanda Maximoff."

"Maximoff, Maximoff," Scott, who Wanda doesn’t know, says before he snaps his fingers. Enthusiastically. Like some kind of scientist who just solved the next number in Pi. Or a detective from some old 70s show. "I know your brother!"

Wanda opens her mouth, but Bucky wants this to go faster because now he's probably gonna have to help Lang move shit in and that's gonna be a pain. "Wanda, this is Scott Lang. Antman."

"And more importantly," starts the blonde girl who clearly needs to put herself into this conversation seeing as this isn't about to turn into superhero central, "I'm Cassie. Your roommate."

And Scott just says, "Well, this is convenient!"

Some time later, after Cassie pulls out a small bundle from her purse and unshrinks (regrows? enlarges?) her packed boxes and bags one by one, she's putting her stuff away and chattering to Wanda idly while Scott and Bucky stay in the hallway, out of the way. "I didn't even recognize you at first, Barnes," laughs Scott. (Bucky wants to comment about how that was the whole point of the hat and the gloves and the goddamn longs sleeves, but whatever.) "And honestly, I'm surprised Clint isn't here. He's always showing me pictures of you and the damn kids."

Bucky tries not to smile too much. "Yeah, he wanted to be here, but we still got two more at home to keep an eye on." He scratches at his stubble for a second. "'sides, he's not too worried 'bout her comin' home to visit. We'll see her plenty, I'm sure."

"I'll bet. Pietro's always talking about you guys when he's not trying to weasel his way into fieldwork."

"He's a conniving sonuva bitch," says Bucky sharply. "Don't let him in the field until he's damn good and ready."

Scott laughs. Hard and loud. It's an annoying sound. "Clint wasn't joking about you being a good dad." Scott shakes his head. "I don't know that I believed him until now, honestly."

"I'm not..." But he really can't bring himself to say it. (Because he is. By marriage.) He just shakes his head instead.

"We should start a club or something." Scott's still grinning like a fool. "Superheroes with kids. Or whatever. Like group therapy. But we just bitch about shit our kids do."

(Bucky doesn't want to bitch about his kids.)

"Dad!" calls Cassie. And almost simultaneously, Wanda says, "Bucky."

(And he almost flinches. Almost.)

"Can we go to Starbucks?" asks Cassie. "And maybe grab like a group dinner tonight or something? It'd be cool. And then you guys could like carpool home or some shit."

"Language," says Wanda sharply, like it's a reflex.

Bucky isn't sure he could be any prouder.

\--

_Who is your greatest inspiration?_  
An essay by Wanda Maximoff

Who is my greatest inspiration? I do not believe that it can be one single person in my life. With years of life experience, it is too difficult to say that only one person has inspired me.

Despite those years of experience, it has truly been the last year that has been the most inspirational to me. My older brother and I were recently adopted by a family who wanted to offer us more opportunities in life, such as an emotional support system and the chance to go to college. This new family is my greatest inspiration.

At first, I expected merely what they offered: shelter, food, conversation. But I now understand that what they have given me is much more than just a home.

I have a younger brother now. He was adopted by our fathers when he was very young and has grown up so much even since I met him, and I am enjoying being his older sister. Peter and I are very close, which I did not expect because I already have a twin brother, Pietro. I did not expect to have a bond so close as the one I have with my twin.

Kate is my sister now. Neither she nor I have had a sister before, and we were immediately sharing a room together. Living with her offered me more experiences than I would have discovered on my own in America. She reminded me to step away from my books and into the mall, and she is the best sister I could ever ask for.

I have two fathers now, both of whom are very kind and welcoming. One does not have an arm. One cannot hear. They are very supportive of me, not only in my collegiate endeavors, but also in helping me get my mental health back on track. They help remind me that I can stand on my own and challenge me to do more than I think I am capable of.

None of these people are related by blood except for my twin and I, and yet, we are all one big family. Becoming a part of this family has made me realize that as much as I am ready to leave my new home on my own adventure, I am in no way ready to leave my family behind. And that is what my fathers wanted to offer us when they took in my brother and I: a family to come home to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy, the next chapter should be up next Sunday, and as always, please leave comments and feedback. I've loved reading the responses you've all had to the sequel and knowing that everyone is as attached to this universe as I am, and thank you so much for all your kind words and love!
> 
> As always, hit me up on tumblr at skylarkevanson.tumblr.com, where I am more than happy to talk about fic, answer questions, and whatever tf else


	3. Kate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which she fights for herself.

Bucky finds himself suddenly awake on the couch, and he checks his phone to see that it's four in the morning, and Clint is asleep, on his lap and about to fall. Bucky shifts slightly to balance Clint safely and gently before trying to figure out why he's not sleeping anymore.

There's a key shoving its way into the lock at the front door, which means that, yeah, Peter locked up before he went to bed, thank God, but it also means that Kate is just now getting in.

With a sigh, Bucky carefully pulls the hearing aids out of his husband's ears; the only response is a little mumble of "where's my sock" before Clint's out cold again, his face wedged into Bucky's neck. His warm breath on Bucky's skin is reassuring.

The front door is open, and Kate's jewelry jingles more than the keys she's holding. She closes the door and locks up again, but Kate freezes as soon as Bucky says, "Where've you been?"

It's like she has to comport herself as she straightens out her dress and stands a little taller, perfectly balanced in her impressive stilettos. "Out," she says calmly.

Bucky reminds himself that it's not his business where she is anymore, that she's twenty-one now and can be doing whatever the fuck she wants. He still hates the idea of her wandering around at all hours despite knowing very well that she could kick anyone's ass who dared to so much as look at her the wrong way. There's just the side of him that can't put away the idea of her being a little girl, the kid who showed up and stole his coffee and kept insisting that she could be Clint's partner.

Bucky hates nostalgia so fucking much.

"I took his aids out, he won't bother you," Bucky reassures, knowing that Clint's the one with the actual problem of Kate going out at ungodly hours.

She doesn't look half as defensive now, even goes as far as to lean against the doorway to the living room to start to take off her heels. (If Lucky weren’t asleep in Peter’s room, he’d make getting those heels off way harder because she’d be tripping over the damn mutt.) "I was just out at a club with my friends," Kate says, and she sounds exhausted. Also a little fake, but Bucky'll give her a hard pass for that. "Had some fun, had some drinks, didn't sleep with anyone."

Bucky almost laughs.

"I see you smirking, old man." Her face gets that snarky look that Bucky hasn't seen in a while. "Don't start to judge just because I'm getting more ass than you."

"I'm married so I only got the one ass." Bucky has to adjust again so Clint doesn't fall off. "And trust me, he's more of an asshole."

Kate grins as she pulls off her other heel and drops her keys on the table just inside the door. "Hey, as long as you love him, what does it matter?"

"It matters 'cause he keeps tryin' to fall offa me." Bucky rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around Clint to hold him in place. "Doesn't know how to go to bed like a normal fuckin' human."

"Language," Kate chastises quietly before her face says that she's just now recognizing full-well that she just said that. To Bucky. And she's well over the age to which the no swearing rule applies. And Peter isn't even in the room. "Anyways," she diverts, "normal is a relative term around here, Bucky."

"I know." He leans his head on the back of the couch and sighs. "You goin' to bed then, Katie?"

She looks like she's about to fight him on that because she hates being called Katie, hates being thought of as a little kid, but she apparently thinks better of it. "Yeah, it's been a long night. My feet are killing me."

"Consider not wearin' heels next time."

Her fake laugh is so fake that it could be the laugh track to a bad sitcom. "Hilarious," she says, punctuating it by sticking her tongue out like a nine-year-old.

"Get some sleep," Bucky says with a sigh before settling in himself on the couch, an arm still safely wrapped around his sleeping husband. He closes his eyes but still listens to Kate going up the stairs and heading into the bathroom. And he can relax again.

\--

"Aren't you worried about her?"

This is probably the tenth time they've had this conversation in the past week. Frankly, Bucky's about to punch Clint in the fucking face.

"No." Bucky eats his cereal and continues to scroll through the news on his phone because sometimes Clint is fucking annoying.

Clint's a good husband: great for long walks on the beach, morning coffee, and phone sex during missions. Clint's a good father: protective of his kids and cares about them deeply, but also commandeering when needed.

That does not mean he's perfect by any stretch of the word.

"Is this you being passive about the kids again?" Clint asks with a skeptical sort of glare, and his face is wrapped up in frustration, which is sometimes cute but right now, it's definitely not fucking cute. "Or have you just not had enough coffee yet?"

Bucky drops his phone on the table, and it clatters, but thank God for the strongest phone cases on the market because that thing has been dropped from like twenty feet while Bucky was running after a mark one time. (He got the mark, thank you very much.) "Clint."

"It's a coffee thing, isn't it?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. It's times like these that Bucky feels ancient-- like he's years older than he is, and not just because of cryo bullshit. He feels like he should be fifty-something and wondering about retirement, but instead he's barely forty and having an argument with his husband of almost five years over their twenty-one-year-old not-exactly-a-daughter who is always out until ungodly hours of the night.

(Although, yes, it’s also partially a coffee thing.)

Bucky is not equipped for this. He's a living weapon. He barely knew how to handle kids until he started dating Clint. The good news: he's got a pretty good handle on the whole "young adult" thing. He's not great; hell, he's a far cry from perfect, but he's handling it far better than Clint is right now.

Maybe because he didn't see them as his kids for so long. He wasn't attached to their childhood in the way Clint was, getting Peter, fighting for Kate, just catching some twins along the way. Clint sees them all as his kids.

Bucky exhales finally. "Clint, I love you, you know that. But sometimes, you gotta let shit go. Katie was livin' on her own last year, her own apartment and everythin'. Just 'cause she's back with us doesn't mean you get a say in every lil' thing she does."

"What if she's into drugs or something?"

"I was awake when she came in last night. I can promise you she's not on drugs."

"When did you become a drug expert?"

Bucky wishes he had laser vision so he could stare a hole right through Clint. But since laser vision wasn't a priority according to HYDRA, Bucky just stares a normal hole through Clint. He's too tired for this shit this morning.

"Besides, how did she even afford the apartment?" Clint's face tilts into almost a sad puppy look, but Bucky recognizes it for what it really is: helplessness. "Or pay for car insurance?"

"Hard work an' long hours." Bucky takes another bite of his cereal.

Clint's mouth is all twisted up in frustration.

Bucky swallows his mouthful and goes, "She came back to save money, so end of the day, she couldn't manage it on her own. Point proven. You're right, she couldn't afford it. Doesn't matter now."

But of course, of fucking course, Clint's still not satisfied. "What's she even gonna do with her life? Like, what if she lives with us forever?"

"She'll be fine," assures Bucky like he does every single time they've had this conversation because Clint doesn't know how to let this shit go. "We're here for her no matter what, and she knows that."

Clint twitches uncomfortably.

"Chill." And Bucky wishes he could smile and make a joke about cryo right now, but he can't because he needs more coffee and a decent sense of humor for that.

\--

"You don't wanna go in there, Bucky."

Maybe a few years ago, Bucky wouldn't have taken Peter seriously, but right now, he's looking at his teenage kid, and he really, genuinely believes him.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair and has to look at the house longingly instead of just walking inside and crashing on the couch and spending the next hour deciding what he wants to watch on tv. "Is it really that bad?"

If Peter's face hadn't turned... almost melancholy, Bucky probably would've walked in. "Yeah. It's... It's not good. She's taking shots at everything."

"She needs to get it out of her system." He resigns to leaning against the hood of the minivan he doesn't need anymore. He could get a Jeep now. Or maybe something with better gas mileage.

It's been building for months now: Kate and Clint's final showdown. His helicopter parenting style has finally met its match with Katie. And the worst part is that she knows she holds all the cards, that she can sever the ties with the family and walk away right now if she wanted to, and Clint is all too aware of that. And terrified of it.

Kate Bishop is the only kid who has never been legally part of the family. Bucky and Clint barely managed to get legal guardianship, which still didn't get her far enough away from her father. Her biological one, anyways.

Bucky wonders if that's not part of this animosity-- that they didn't fight hard enough for her back then.

"Yeah, but I dunno if Dad can take it." Peter kicks at the gravel. "She's getting pretty savage in there."

shit

Bucky forgets how vicious that kid can be. She was rough and rowdy as a teenager, but nowadays, she can be downright volatile.

He pushes off the car, and he barely hears Pete's "Don't!" because he's got tunnel vision and a goddamn mission.

Clint can be ripped open wide and tortured for weeks and never crack because it's always just physical, and he's been dealing with that his entire life. But the past, what, ten years or so? He's gotten his emotional game together. Despite the depression, Clint's better mentally than he's probably been in his entire goddamn life.

Because he put himself together a family, a real good and true family. He created a safe space for himself.

And that safe space has turned on him.

The front door blasts open because fuck the door, Bucky'll buy a new one.

"-don't fucking trust me to do anything! You think I'm out there just sleeping around?!"

She's a small volcano. Small in terms of her physique, not in the amount of rage boiling out of her right now.

"I'm working three jobs right now trying to juggle shit!" Katie's screaming at the top of her lungs in the middle of the kitchen. "I'm working harder than you ever have in your goddamn life! And you think you're just handing out charity to some poor little girl you had to take in!"

"Kate, I was saving you!" Clint's shouting about as loud as his voice can go probably because his words sound raw and tired.

"Saving me from what?! From my psycho dad?!" She throws something, and Bucky doesn't even know what it is until he hears the clatter of arrow tips on the floor. "Heads up, Barton! You didn't save me from anything!"

Clint looks like he's about to say more but doesn't, biting his lip. His chest shakes with his breathing.

"Kate."

She turns to stare coldly at Bucky, and she's seething, and her make-up is running down her face, and she looks beyond pissed. Like a kind of pissed that says "I will fuck you up so hard". (She probably would. She’s fucked up people before. The lawsuits were fun.)

"Can we pause for ten seconds an' take a breather?"

"I'm sure you think I'm a whore or something too, don't you?" she hisses.

Bucky shakes his head slowly, arms out almost in surrender, but it's really so he can catch anything she else she might throw. "I don't give a flyin' fuck what you do in your free time. As long as you're safe and happy, Katie."

And she's back at screaming volume: "Don't fucking call me that! I'm not a little kid anymore! I'm not even your kid!"

"Technically--" But he can't remind her that none of them are his kids (which probably wouldn't solve the problem either) because she's yelling again. This time, Bucky isn't listening because he can see Clint behind her, a wreck, not sure what to do. Helpless.

He pushes past her to get to Clint, to make sure he stays upright, to make sure he's okay.

"I'm a goddamn adult, and I've been working stupid long hours! I just want to start my own life!" She sounds tired and desperate now. "I wanna start a business, I wanna do something to help people! Just because I don't explain my life to you doesn't mean I'm into drugs or some stupid shit! You guys always assume the worst of me!"

Bucky can't focus on her right now because Clint's struggling. Kate's mad, and she has every right to be, Bucky knows that. If this were directed at him, Bucky'd let her shout until she was blue in the face. But Clint can't take this.

"It's like you don't even realize who you raised! I'm not a great person, but I'm better than either of you!"

Pressing his lips against Clint's ear, Bucky whispers, "It's okay." He loops one arm around Clint's waist to keep him upright, the other is on his wrist to check his pulse. "It'll all be okay, I promise." (He has no idea if it’ll be okay.)

"You're both fucking assholes!"

Kate could probably keep going all night, which Bucky realizes. And he raises his voice just enough to say, "I think you should go, Kate."

She stops.

"Stay with a friend tonight and we'll talk tomorrow," he instructs calmly, knowing he needs to pick the lesser of two evils here. Protect Clint and give Kate some space. That's the only way this can happen. It's like war. No one wins. And they can't have a discussion when she's only hurling bombs. "Text me so I know you're somewhere safe, please."

As if mulling this over, she stays frozen for a few moments longer, trying to piece all this shit together. And then she grabs her purse off the kitchen table and walks off, but not after yelling, "Fuck you!"

Bucky can hear her car start up and Peter yelling to her, something like "where are you going?!", but he can't be sure because he needs to focus, which seems impossible right now.

Back before he gave a damn, Clint was his whole world, and Clint would've been his only priority right now. And still, yes, he focuses on Clint because of the urgency. He'd like to be standing outside with Peter and making sure he's okay because God knows it hasn't been easy on him since Wanda and Pietro left, and now with Kate going after Clint? It's gotta be chaos on the one who only knows this kind of life. The big family. The togetherness. The love.

And Bucky'd like to be chasing after Katie and asking her what the fuck even happened because, yeah, okay, sure, Clint's a fucking moron sometimes and doesn't know when to stop running his mouth, but he's a man of good intentions. The easy guess is that Clint stepped on Kate's toes again without necessarily meaning to and caused her to snap.

The hardest decision in all of this is that Bucky wanted to stand by Clint and hold him up and keep him together. Especially when Bucky knows that there’s a 90% chance that Clint started this.

Now it’s obvious that Clint clearly now regrets whatever he said to start all this.

"I told y-"

"Don't say it."

Bucky breathes sharply and kisses Clint's forehead. "I'm sorry," he murmurs and cards a hand through his husband's hair. "I shoulda been here sooner."

Clint's shaking and leans on Bucky, needing the support in more ways than one. "I just. I didn't think. She's-"

"Reckless? Yeah, sure." Bucky keeps his breathing even. "And so are you. But you're also smart, and so is she. You raised her to be a person with big dreams, Clint."

"We raised her," corrects Clint quietly.

"Point is," he carries on, "that she's not 'bout to throw her life away." Bucky has to keep his head level, he can’t get at Clint’s throat either. He just needs to keep the peace—something he wasn’t particularly good at a decade or so ago. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout Kate. She’ll spend tonight with America, probably, and then we’ll talk everything through tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” murmurs Clint as he tucks his face into Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

\--

They talked long enough for Kate to say, roughly, this: “I’m moving out to California. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and I had the opportunity last night to assess my financial situation, and it looks like I can do it.”

Clint was not prepared for this.

Neither was Bucky, but hey, one of them had to have a poker face.

“Look, I know it’s a crazy idea and California’s rent is absurd, but I called Wanda and just… I didn’t tell her about everything that happened yesterday-” (Bucky’s not sure if that’s because Kate sees her own fault in the matter or if she’s embarrassed that it got as heated as it did.) “-but I asked if I could spend some time with her out there, and she said it was fine.”

With Wanda in her last year at college, Kate could just sublease the apartment when Wanda figures out her job situation. Bucky doesn’t see the problem with any of this. Really, he’s impressed that Kate thought that far ahead.

There’s a noise from Clint, and Bucky thinks it’s a deep breath just before he’s about to say something long-winded, which is not a good idea, and Bucky just about cuts him off except Clint speaks first.

“Okay.”

Bucky was not prepared for this.

He had calculated the situation of Kate wanting to move out. California was a little out of reach for what he had anticipated, but it was manageable. Then Bucky had expected Clint to get agitated about this and plead for her to at least stay in town.

But Clint agreeing?

Shit. Shit. Bucky’s about to lose another daughter.

“Katie, are you sure about this?” he asks patiently, trying to hold onto his poker face the best he can.

She doesn’t argue with him calling her Katie. “Avocado prices will be lower there.” Kate shrugs and then tucks some loose hair behind her ear. “I’ve just… I’ve wanted to get out of here for a while. Not because of anything with you guys, you know I love you. It’s just… I know both sides now. I’ve been in the city, I’ve been in the country. I love that I have a family and a warm bed and a dumb dog, but I can’t stay here forever. I can’t.”

The farm isn’t for everyone. Peter’s been here his entire life. Pietro still comes home fairly regularly, usually after wild adventures so he can tell the tale and watch Peter smile at the chaos of the story, especially when Pietro slips away from speaking English. Wanda comes home when she can manage it, and it’s particularly nice because her still-developing powers now allow her to teleport, so airfare is non-existent. 

But Kate has known life outside of this static environment and has craved it for years. She’s the one who had to go home until Clint and Bucky got their legal guardianship squared away. She faced big crowds and lavish parties and cars for miles.

Of course she’d want to be free after all this time.

“We know,” Bucky manages to breathe. He scratches at the inside of his flesh arm’s elbow; the metal against his skin is settling. He isn’t quite ready for this.

The silence hangs there, and Bucky wants to lean on Clint for support now, wants to hold onto him. But his poker face is more important right now. He doesn’t want to make it seems like he wants to guilt Kate into staying. He’s better than that, dammit.

“I’ve got a plane ticket for tomorrow,” she says slowly. “So if it’s okay, I’d like to stay here tonight and spend time with you guys and Peter and Lucky before I head out.” It sounds like she’ll be gone forever. (Bucky’s chest hurts.)

“This is your home, Kate,” says Clint at the same time as Bucky says, “Of course.”

Her smile is tired and sad.

Bucky is also tired and sad.

\--

It’s dark, and there’s no good reason Bucky should be awake at this hour. There isn’t even any moonlight coming in because it’s a new moon tonight, so it’s darker than usual. It only feels appropriate, in a way.

He rolls over so that he’s facing Clint. Unsurprisingly, Clint is still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

“When can I ever sleep?” Bucky responds.

It’s an instant reaction, for them to start shifting under blankets and moving so that their legs are tangled up and arms are carefully wrapped around each other and the metal arm doesn’t pinch either of them. It’s taken a few years to be able to do this thoughtlessly in the darkness. (There was a lot of pinching in the past. The arm was not designed for cuddling.)

Quiet lingers for a few minutes. It’s a soft quiet at first, like the quiet of waking up at the first sign of dawn for gentle kisses and slow, tired words. But after a few minutes, it’s a deafeningly empty silence, filled with nothing but their mutual ache.

Clint is the first to break. “I did save her, Buck.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of his husband’s head and stays there, his nose tickled by Clint’s choppy hair. It’s reassuring. Clint isn’t going anywhere.

“No, I…” This is Clint in his most reserved form, trying to figure out how much to say. If it weren’t something sensitive, he would’ve said it a long time ago. He’s quiet for a long time, the quiet only punctuated by his quiet breathing and the occasional kiss against Bucky’s bare chest.

He won’t push. He hasn’t before. He won’t start now.

There’s a sigh that results in a puff of hot air on Bucky’s chest. “Back when I got her out of there, I did surveillance for three or four days before I could do anything else. I got to listen in on the guards and watch the house. Kate was easy to keep an eye on, she hardly ever left her room because no one paid attention to her.”

Bucky cannot imagine Kate not being loud and obnoxious and everywhere at once in their little farmhouse.

“But one of Bishop’s guards was paying attention to her. Too much attention. I could hear him talking with the others on the comms about the things he wanted to do to her.”

He feels fucking sick.

“And I was only supposed to be surveillance, so I couldn’t swing in and straight up kill the guy.” Clint’s hand is on Bucky’s back, and his fingers are tensed, pushing harshly against Bucky’s skin. “I wanted to though. I’m not proud of it, but I wouldn’t have been upset to see him dead.

“But when she was almost kidnapped, it was… It was like the perfect opportunity to come up with a damn good reason to get her the hell outta dodge. And I took her away from there. From that guy. And any of the others who could’ve come along.”

Leveling out his breathing takes a moment. Bucky brings himself back. Kate’s safe. There’s no need to get angry like this.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” Clint shivers in the darkness, pressing himself closer to Bucky; whether it’s for warmth or comfort, the world may never know.

“Does she know?”

Bucky can feel Clint shaking his head. “No. I never needed to tell her.”

He’s right. There’s no need to tell her. The kidnapping was enough of a reason to get her out. But she never wanted to go back once she came to the farm.

It feels like forever ago, mostly because it pretty much was forever ago. (Bucky feels ancient. He always feels ancient when he thinks of the kids when they were younger. It’s gross.) But Kate was happy when she got here. Figured out proper form with a bow and arrow. Learned how to make coffee on her own. Ended up going to school without a body guard at her side all the time. It was a quieter life than what she would’ve gotten otherwise.

It’s been a better life with Kate in their home.

“Good point.”

Clint hooks his foot around Bucky’s ankle as he nervously fidgets. (He’s a fidgety guy when he sleeps, too. Doesn’t stop moving until he’s out cold. Bucky found it endearing for the first ten years. Now? It depends on the night.) He mutters, “I just wish she knew that she was better off here.”

So Clint does want her to stay. To keep her safe. To keep her away from what the world has already threatened her with. But that’s the problem with having a daughter. The world is scary, and you can’t just tell the world to stop being scary. Sons aren’t taught consent; instead, daughters are taught caution.

However, Kate was taught endurance and survival.

“We raised a good kid, Barton.” Bucky rubs the back of his husband’s head, gently scratching his scalp. “Me and you both know that she’ll kick anyone’s ass.”

Clint is quiet. His feet still twitch. Agitated. Worried. Scared.

“You had to save her back then, but now she can save herself.”

Bucky knows that Clint knows. It just doesn’t make it any easier to accept that Katie’s leaving tomorrow morning, and only God knows when they’ll see her again. (Bucky misses her already.)

\--

“I am planning on coming home after my finals are finished,” Wanda says as she washes her dishes; her phone is propped up somehow in the kitchen so that they can see her face mostly in shadow, but it’s good enough for the video call. “I was hoping to go spend time in Florida with Cassie and her father after our exams ended, but her mother is taking her to Mexico for a Christmas vacation instead.”

“Sounds good, sounds good.” Bucky listens for the most part, but he’s also busy trying to get his and Clint’s bedroom cleaned up. Clint got back from a mission late last night and ended up shedding his bloody clothes all around the room and doing a half-assed patch job on a couple wounds. Their bed ended up bloody, there was another patch job at four in the morning, and Bucky ended up having to change their bedding in the dark. Now, he’s got to get everything that took shrapnel from last night sorted into laundry baskets, soon to be washed. He’s holding the phone so that Wanda can mostly see his face, but he’s constantly moving. “So you’ll just, y’kno, teleport home after your last test or whatever?”

“Why? Do you miss us?” asks Kate in the background on Wanda’s end of the phone; he hadn’t known she was there.

Bucky laughs. “Never,” he says as he tosses a red-stained pillow case into one of the baskets he’s got set up around the room.

“You’ve gone soft on me, Barnes.” Kate appears over Wanda’s shoulder with a make-up brush in one hand as she then starts to use her sister’s phone to finish the job. “What happened to the murder-y man who couldn’t wait to get rid of me?”

Murder-y is one of the nicer adjectives she’s used to describe him. “Oh, I still got rid of you. It just took longer.”

She cackles as she brushes on foundation on the other end of the line. “Fuck off, Barnes.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Barnes,” agrees Clint as he walks into the bedroom. He drifts past Bucky to kiss his husband on the cheek. “Hi, girls,” he says to the camera nonchalantly as he goes to get a new shirt on since the one he’s wearing is apparently stained in blood. Again.

“Hey, Wanda, Wanda,” Bucky says, trying to get back to the daughter he actually called, “have you heard anythin’ ‘bout when Pietro’s comin’ home for the holidays? I wanna make sure we have your Hanukkah stuff outta the basement so you can decorate.”

“No.” Now Wanda sounds distant, but at least Kate angles the phone so that she can do her make-up in the foreground while Bucky can see Wanda washing dishes in the background. “But surely if you call him, he will give you an estimate.”

“I’ll call him next,” Bucky said, hoping that he could get everyone’s holiday plans squared away and sloppily scribbled on a calendar just so they could do presents and everything. At least Peter is still easy to keep an eye on. “Katie, you comin’ home with Wanda?”

“Yessir,” she affirms as she put down the phone back where she found it and heads off, probably to finish putting her face on. “And then I’ll get to see your ugly mug.”

Again, Clint comes through with his perfect timing and a fresh shirt. Again, he kisses Bucky on the cheek. “Too bad I’m always stuck with his ugly mug.”

“Sucks for you.” He says it through a grin, which lasts about ten seconds before he sees that Clint’s already bleeding through his new shirt. This is what happens when trying to sew up your husband at four in the fucking morning. “Girls, I gotta go, Clint’s bleeding again.”

Clint groans.

To Wanda and Kate, this is no surprise. It’s basically a routine to go through the house once a month and try to scrub out any blood stains that got missed before. Most of them are in Clint and Bucky’s bedroom, but still, they have habits of ripping out stitches or bleeding through bandages in other inconvenient places around the house without realizing it. Honestly, it’s just a casual concept now of “Oh, your parental guardian might be bleeding out, hold on a second” because it’s so commonplace.

“Bye,” the girls chime practically in sync (Kate draws the “e” out just a bit longer) just a second before Bucky hangs up on them.

And now he has to go to work on his husband. “C’mere, ya idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... the most aggravating chapter to write because it was hard to decide on how to keep true to their characterization without detracting from their relationships and experiences.
> 
> Thanks for all the time you guys have been patient on this chapter. The next one is still not done, but hopefully it'll follow in the next month. As always, hit me up on Tumblr at skylarkevanson, I'm always really eager to talk and answer questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! Also, if you wanna chat, hmu at skylarkevanson.tumblr.com, I'm taking requests and would be more than happy to talk fic!


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